


Hullaballoo

by executrix



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/executrix/pseuds/executrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another way that the duel in "Shindig" might have played out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hullaballoo

The door opened, and Mal lifted his head out of his hands and jumped up, prepared to sell his life dearly here and now instead of at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow.

"'Nara? What are you doin' here?"

"Getting you out," she said, selecting a knicknack from the sideboard to prop the door open. "The desk clerk has been bribed…the mule is waiting for you out back…"

"I don't run away from a fight!"

"Yes you do! You do **all the time**! Anyway, what's going to become of Kaylee and Wash and River —of **Serenity** \--if you insist on getting yourself killed?"

"Might have a point there at that," Mal said, looking for his frock coat. "My, that's some suit of pajamas you got on."

Inara glared at him. "I have less than no time to waste. I've got to get back before Atherton notices I'm gone."

Mal's face changed, and he touched her shoulder with a gentle hand. "You'd best come along with me. I wouldn't want him to take it out on you, when he finds out tomorrow he got left at the altar, what with his duel an' all."

Her shoulder flinched away from his hand. "He won't," she said, closing off the discussion. She didn't say goodbye when he slipped through the door and she ghosted down the corridor.

Mal had to crawl through quite a deal of brush before he found the clearing where it was safe for Zoe to park the mule, but he'd done that before, and this time no one seemed to be shooting at him.

"Damn romantic fools," Zoe snorted. "One of you worse'n the other."

"Yes, dear," Mal said absently.

Despite the promising start, overall it had not been a good evening so, once they returned to the ship, Mal self-medicated with a few slugs of tequila, left his pants on the chair to remind himself to have Kaylee stitch them up where they split, and went to sleep.

Mal awoke with his bed vibrating around him. Even in his rack, he could hear cattle lowing. It was a sound he had never expected to hear again and wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You're a lucky man, Captain," Sir Warwick Harrow said in parting.

"Yes, sir," Mal said. It seemed to be the safest policy.

"Got the deal all took care of, sir," Zoe said. "Jayne, stop smackin' them cows."

Mal saluted her effortless efficiency. He wandered past the Infirmary en route to breakfast. Intrigued because the windows were darkened, he opened the door and went in. Simon leaned against the counter, utterly drained, crunching on a trio of capsules combining antibiotics and painkillers. He wasn't wearing a shirt but it kind of didn't matter because the amount of Weave showing white against his skin added up to at least a bandeau. Maybe a bolero.

"What the all hell happened to you?" Mal asked, casually sitting down on the treatment bed. "Looks like you got yourself cut up by…oh."

"I've just been sprinting back and forth in an uncomfortable position waving a four-foot straight razor," Simon said repressively. In response to Mal's raised eyebrow, he said, "Inara waved the ship," Simon said. "Zoe and I discussed the options, and shortly after you exited through the back door, I came in through the front. Inara left the door of your room open for me. In the morning, I simply informed them that I was your second, and that if anything honor would be better satisfied because I had at least the minimal capacity to take up the challenge."

 _It was far from Simon's first sleepless night, but most of them were spent in agreeable industry, taking care of other people's wounds instead of anticipating his own. He spent the first half hour telling himself it was a Far, Far Better Thing Than Any He Had Ever Done, but he didn't believe it. The possible repercussions of his irresponsibility, for River, terrified him. He wondered if his participation in River's escape was the free first taste that made him a hapless adrenaline addict. By the time he got around to being really frightened on his own account it was five am, and dawn was at 5:26, so he warmed up with a few exercises and planned some strategy. He wasn't much of a fencer—River had stopped bouting with him when she was eleven, because it wasn't much of a challenge—but at least he had some training._

{{Wo cao}} Mal thought. {{Dug myself a sizeable pit, didn't I?}}"Well, you’re cut up some but you ain't dead, and they let you go. That mean you won the duel? Didn't figure you for much of a fighter."

"It was a technical decision," Simon said. "I correctly surmised that I could induce him to exhaust his glycogen stores."

 _When Atherton pitched forward onto his face, Simon threw down his sword, dusted off his hands, and staggered away. Although he did plant his foot between Atherton's shoulderblades. But only for a moment. He didn't feel any better about himself when the spectators hooted and turned their thumbs down._

"Wore him out, huh?"

"I. Don't. Give. Up. Easily" Simon said.

"Yeah, noticed that myself," Mal said. "So, how'd the cows get here?" he asked conversationally.

"Well, Mal, it's true that when you're up to your ass in alligators it's hard to remember that your original objective was to drain the swamp, but fortunately I remained focused enough to remember that the whole {{fiasco}} situation arose because you were looking for work from Harrow. And they're—the cows, that is—the work."

 _While the cattle were being driven toward the ship, Simon didn't allow Sir Warwick to ply him with anything stronger than iced pomegranate juice. Simon salted it heavily, both because he needed the electrolytes and because any sign of weirdness that discouraged the Persephonean's ardor would be a help. Finally, he felt compelled to stave off assorted comforts by confiding that his affair with Mal was so recent a development that the insane passion hadn't had time to cool. Because, in a curved universe, "recent" and "never" are practically the same thing._

"They are? Huh. Nice work, Doc. Thanks."

 _Atherton wasn't out for long; his second poured some cold water over him, then into him as he pressed himself up to his elbows. "That's not fair!" he said. "You're not even a good fencer!" Sir Warwick kicked the discarded sword over toward Simon. "Better kill him, son. Either to prevent dishonoring him or just to shut him up."_

 _"I don't kill people," Simon said, closing his eyes so the trees would stop swaying._

 _"Might want to reconsider that," Harrow said. "It's not a very functional tack to take, kind of life you're livin'."_

 _"I'll take my chances," Simon said. "Inara, shall we go?"_

 _"You!" Atherton said, realizing that there was another target in sight. "I'm an influential man, you know. You'll never work in this town again."_

 _"No, Atherton, that's just where you're wrong," Inara said. "When the Guild gets my report, you'll be blacklisted. No Companion will ever accept an engagement from you again. And that means, unless you can deign to engage in the common run of paid—entertainment—you'll be thrown back on your own charms. Three inches **hard**. Hard-ish," she stage-whispered to the gallery. _

When Inara went to check out the infirmary situation, the windows were still darkened, but it didn't really matter, because Mal had left the door open.

"All in a day's work," Simon said. It took Mal a second to figure out what was so strange. Simon was dead-pale and upright only by force of will, but he certainly wasn't the first person Mal had ever seen in that condition. It was the pills; something had blown out the pupils like belladonna, until there was just a blue corona blazing around the flying-saucer iris.

Mal started to say, "What'd you do it for?" but realized that (as his lawyer told him one time when he was bound by law) that the first rule of cross-examination is never asking a question that you don't know the answer to. Or that you need to be able to pretend you don't know the answer to.

"Well," Simon said. "I wore your colors. I won the joust. I think I can claim a kiss." As he leaned forward and rested his hands on Mal's shoulders. Mal's hands started forward to grasp Simon's waist, and then stopped, wondering if he'd encounter a freshly bandaged slice. He patted gingerly, and found everything smooth back there. "All the dings are on the front, looks like."

"Of course. I wasn't running away," Simon said, and then blushed and launched into an incoherent apology and finally gave up and took his reward.

Inara was sorry that the situation had deteriorated into open rivalry. She did not dislike Simon, and in fact would write him a glowing reference to any of her male colleagues if she thought it would remove an attractive nuisance from Mal's path. If Simon had actually managed to get himself killed, she was sure she would have felt so guilty that she'd find some way to blame the whole damn thing on him. Now that he was back and fairly close to all-rightish, her own role horrified Inara. She had been too set on saving Mal to think about anything else.

Simon tasted understandably bitter. {{Oh, Simon}} Mal thought. {{I ain't the man you think you want, and not just for the obvious reason neither.}} He drew back, kissed Simon's forehead, and said, "Get some rest 'fore you fall down. That's an order."

Inara slipped away into the darkness before Mal left. In her professional estimation, a beautiful woman would have about a four-and-a-half k lead over a beautiful man in a five-k race for Mal's attentions. Simon's youthful moralism and spectacular lack of tact were also in her favor. However, Mal and Inara had over a year invested in trading unforgivable insults, which would have to affect any future escalation of their relationship. It was one thing for Inara to make herself feel larger by dangling a catnip mouse in front of Mal, and snatching it back, quite another thing when another would-be pet owner declared his interest.

Inara determined that she was not going to take this not lying down.

**Author's Note:**

> Long before there were TV reality shows, there were variety shows featuring musical acts. The rock'n'roll version was called "Shindig"...which was shortly followed by a very similar show called "Hullaballoo."


End file.
